


Red

by Amymel86



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jonsa Gift Exchange, Linguist!Jon, mermaid au, mermaid!sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 15:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: “And weren’t mermaids a myth to you before you saw what you see now?” Ned asked.Jon swallowed, his eyes returning to the red hair floating around the mermaid’s face. She smiled brightly as their eyes met and turned herself upside down so that her tail pointed skyward while she continued beaming at him through the glass. Ned chuckled. “She’s in a playful mood today. I think she likes you.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doomeric](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomeric/gifts).



> This is my gift for the myths and fairy-tales round of the Jonsa Gift Exchange. my giftee is @doomeric - I hope that you like it and don't mind it being so bloody loooong!!! (sorry!!)
> 
> Separated into chapters for ease of reading!
> 
> Thank you to Vivilove and EternalFangirl for taking a look at the first part of this fic for me and boosting my confidence in the story! Muchos loves!

Jon sucked in a lungful of salt-laced air as he stepped out of his cab. He’d been to White Harbour perhaps once or twice as a lad, on holiday with his mum, but this is the first time he’d returned as an adult. Leaning down to pick up his suitcase, his wire rim glasses sliding down his nose, he finally looked up to where he’d be staying - for one night, at least. Inside, The Merman Hotel seemed full of tasteful décor, with highly polished dark wood throughout the lobby and a sizable aquatic tank set up in the middle with colourful fish and a stream of ascending bubbles. The corners of Jon’s mouth twitched in appreciation of his surroundings; he’d had no idea he was being put up in such an upmarket kind of place. Wheeling his suitcase up to the large empty reception desk, his jacket draped over his forearm, Jon dinged the brass bell and awaited assistance, noticing the large spherical glass bowl full of seashells and a huge ship’s wheel mounted on the wall behind. _When you’ve got a theme, it’s best to pick it up and run with it, I guess,_ Jon mused, eyeing the framed displays of nautical rope knots on the wall beside him.

His room, he found, was blessedly less maritime themed, with only two vintage looking illustrations of fish species gracing the walls. Everything else seemed as expected; plain, inoffensive, tasteful and a little dull.

After hanging up his shirts and suit, determining that the travel had not gifted them with too many creases, Jon pushed back the ceiling-to-floor heavy black-out drapes and nodded his head appreciatively to himself at the harbour-side view. Seagulls cawed a welcome at him as he squinted in response to the barely-there sunlight glinting off the gently undulating waves. _I could get used to this._

The jobs that Jon normally took up as a linguist had recently been focussed on communications with the remote tribes and clans of the Free Folk in the cold and desolate lands beyond the wall. This - this quaint little seaside town that he’d been called to, _this_ was practically a vacation. Jon’s hands flexed involuntarily, and his toes wiggled in his shoes as the muscles there seem to remember one time or another where he thought he may lose a digit or two to frost bite. _I could definitely get used to this._

It was only a few moments later when he received a call from reception, letting him know that his car had arrived sooner than anticipated to take him to meet his new employer.

“Mr Stark?” Jon asked as he slid into the backseat of the sleek grey car that had been awaiting him out front. He held out his hand in greeting to the bald man sat beside him – a gesture that seemed to amuse the man for a second or two.

“No, Mr Snow,” the man responded with a smirk as he shook his hand and then leant back into his seat, “Ned Stark is my employer. I am Varys, Head of Operations at Stark Research’s White Harbour branch.”

“Oh, right,” Jon nodded, “it’s nice to meet you.”

Varys paused, eyeing Jon beside him with a thoughtful look upon his face. “What do you know of Stark Research, Mr Snow?”

The snort that came from Jon couldn’t be helped. “Very little,” he admitted. “I looked you guys up online when I was head-hunted, but information is very sparse.”

“Yes,” Varys agreed as he looked Jon over. “The type of research we do is rather confidential, but all above board, I can assure you that, Mr Snow.”

Jon nodded. “Can you tell me anything about the role I’m being considered for? What little information I could find on Stark Research brought me to a lot of sites regarding nautical mythology and…well… transcribing ancient texts would not be my strong suit in the field of linguistics, I much prefer-“

“Finding ways to converse with people where there is a language barrier,” Varys interrupted. “Don’t worry Mr Snow. We are well aware of your work with the indigenous peoples of the far, far north.”

Varys gave him a small, tight smile and turned his head to look at the passing scenery out the car window. Jon took that to mean the conversation was over, so he cleared his throat and did the same, watching the buildings of White Harbor pass by as they seemed to be heading out of the town.

*****

The Stark Research White Harbor branch was a modern and yet squat building set on the cliffside at Widow’s Watch – the only building for miles, it seemed. Electric doors whooshed open once Varys had placed his palm on the identification pad and a beam of blue light had scanned his hand up and down.

“Security is tight,” Jon commented, raising his brows.

“As I said Mr Snow, our research is confidential,” Varys replied without turning to face him. He gave a nod to the woman with the headset who sat behind the desk. She wore bright red lipstick and had dark hair that was slicked back into a neat bun. “Mr Snow, for Mr Stark please.”

Jon was just about to be ushered into some sort of small meeting room to await Mr Stark when the doors to an elevator dinged open and out came a man dressed in a suit and using a cane to steady himself as he walked. “Jon Snow!” he said with a smile, approaching Jon with his free hand outstretched in greeting. “It is good to finally get you here! I thought you’d never want to leave that frozen wasteland!”

Jon took the older man’s hand and shook it, smiling in turn. “I couldn’t leave to take on new projects until my current ones were completed, Mr-“

“Stark,” the man informed him, “but call me Ned. We’re glad to have you.”

Before he knew it, Jon was being corralled into the elevator, leaving Varys behind in the reception area. ‘Ned’ punched a code into the control panel and suddenly Jon’s stomach lurched as the two of them were plunging downwards into the earth. He supposes he should’ve guessed that they were to travel below ground as the building seemed to be on one singular level from the outside. Why else would one need an elevator? Jon swallowed nervously as they continued descending through the cliffside. _Down, down, down_ they went. The ride was smooth, but this somehow only served to make Jon more anxious.

Ned was quiet until the doors dinged open and they stepped out into not offices or labs as Jon had suspected, but a long underground tunnel. The floors, ceiling and walls were all basic concrete and lined up beside the elevator was a little fleet of what looked like golf carts.

“The paperwork, Mr Stark,” a woman said from beside them. She was wearing a smart navy suit and held a clipboard in her hand. Her hair was neatly tucked into a low ponytail.

“Thank you, Beth,” Ned smiled before wandering over to one of the carts. He clambered in and sat behind the wheel. His cane now resting beside him, propped up between the driver’s side and the passenger side. “You’ll have to sign that, lad, if you want to see more of our project,” he smiled back at Jon.

‘Beth’ came over to stand beside him, she gave Jon the briefest of smiles before her face went straight back to business. “It’s a standard confidentiality agreement Mr Snow,” she explained, handing over the clipboard and a pen, “take your time and sign the last two pages please.”

After the paperwork was done, Jon climbed onto the golf buggy and Ned put his foot down. “Now for the exciting bit,” he chuckled. As they whizzed along the straight track, passing the odd door to the side or two and taking an occasional turn when there was one, Ned rattled off some facts about the facility – how new it was, how long it had taken to build and just how many tons of ocean water were above their heads.

“We’re under the ocean?” Jon asked, the thought of all that water above him making him shudder a little.

“Yes. The Shivering Sea.”

Suddenly, the electric whirring of the golf cart’s little engine began to slow before they came to a stop outside a set of inconspicuous-looking grey doors. There was an identification pad next to it, like the one at the entrance up on the cliffside. Ned pressed his palm to the security device and turned to Jon. “We’ll get you set up in the system so you can have clearance too.”

Jon nodded and blinked once again. Whatever this project was, it was a very closely guarded secret.

“Welcome to the Observation Lab, Mr Snow,” Ned said as the double doors whooshed open and they both stepped out onto a metal platform high above the cavernous room. Down below he could see a few men and women at work stations all dressed in lab whites. The room swallowed them in truth – for such a large facility there was hardly anyone there at all. Jon supposed it was due to the confidential nature of the project. Ned began to slowly descend the metal stairwell that spiralled down to the floor of the room. Jon followed, and it was only then that he noticed that one whole wall was made up of thick observation glass and looked out into the dark murky waters of the ocean. He was reminded once again of all that water on top of them. His feeling of ill-ease did not subside.

“Mr Stark,” Jon started, his feet clinking on the stairs as he followed the older man down.

“Ned,” the man corrected.

“ _Ned_ … who exactly will I be working with on this project?”

They both reached the bottom of the staircase and Ned spread out an arm, motioning to a pretty blond woman wearing protective lab glasses and punching buttons at control panel that sat in front of the view of the ocean bed. “This is Val, our Head of Marine Biology-” the woman turned and gave Jon a smile and a nod before going back to her work. “And this, is Samwell, my mythology expert,” he’d pointed to a large man hunched over a station with at least five ancient looking books open all at once. The man glanced up and gave an awkward little wave and a _“hullo”._ “And this-“

“I meant who will you be paying me to try and converse with?” Jon interrupted, eager to get some clarification on this project.

Ned frowned down at himself before looking Jon in the eye. “Some say _‘who’_ , others say _‘what’_ …I prefer _‘who’_.”

Feeling his brows scrunch together, Jon knuckled his glasses up his nose. “Excuse me?” The man was talking in riddles.

“I think it’s better if we just show you,” Ned sighed. He led Jon closer to the control panel and the glass wall facing out to the ocean’s depths. “Now remember, everything you see here is confidential. If information is leaked to the press, all our research will be for nought and we’ll have learnt nothing.”

Jon nodded but still felt none the wiser.

“Val, see if you can call some of the pod,” Ned instructed.

“Pod? I… I don’t think I could communicate with dolphins or whales, I have no experience with-“

“Just wait and see, lad,” Ned advised, bracing his hands on the control panel in front of him and staring at the ocean through the glass.

Val clicked and tapped at various buttons before nodding her head to herself. “That should do it.” Quite suddenly, a lyric-less rendition of _‘Six Maids In A Pool’_ came out over some speakers and Jon felt even more lost.

After a moment or two of staring with the others into the blankness of the sea, Jon sucked in a breath to talk, only to be cut off by Ned sharply raising a hand. “Look!” he said eagerly, pointing at the glass, “they’re coming! Two of them this time!”

Jon squinted at the dull blue-ish grey of the water. They were deep, hardly any of the muted sunlight from the surface made it to down here, but there was just enough to make out a couple of specks in the distance. Jon steeled himself for some new species of whale. That is surely what this whole thing is about? Perhaps this species holds more intelligence than most? The thought of working on such a project was intriguing, but Jon had no experience with working with animals, and not for the first time, he wondered if Mr Stark had chosen the right person for the job.

The specks got bigger and bigger as they neared. _Whales?.... What is that?..._ he saw the distinct shape of a face, with hair on top, and both creatures had arms too _. Divers?... Why would I be needed for-?_

_Oh shit!_

Jon’s mouth hung open as both creatures swam right up to the glass of the observation lab.

 _“Mermaids?!”_ he gasped, gaping at the scaled tails attached to the two women, one was smaller than the other, with brown hair that wasn’t as long or voluminous as her friend’s. The other creature’s hair was a vibrant auburn red and fanned out around her pale face as she peered in at them through the glass. Her tail was greyish silver, but as she moved, some of the scales reflected an array of different colours like little rainbows. It reminded Jon of oil on water and the iridescent rainbows one could find there. Her tail was tipped with long flowing fins like thin silk. Jon continued to stare, only now just realising that they were both nude from the waist up. _Well, technically, their tails wouldn’t be considered clothing so they’re completely nude-…unless…_

“Is this some kind of trick?” Jon asked, thinking that perhaps these were indeed divers in some sort of disguise, although why anyone would prank him this way was beyond him. And they’re so, so deep underwater… the thought made him shudder again.

“No trick, I assure you,” Ned smiled, unable to take his eyes away from the creatures. “This one-“ he pointed to the smaller creature, “we don’t see her all that often, but when we do, she’s quite mischievous, very adventurous. She’s the only one to date to even approach our observation tank.” He motioned towards a large tank attached to the wall. Jon’s not sure why he hadn’t noticed it before. It was filled with sea water and had an opening on one side into the ocean, it looked as though the top could be removed too.

“They go in there?”

Ned shook his head. “Only her,” he motioned to the smaller mermaid again who currently seemed very interested in the buttons Val was pressing, “she ventured in there once, but things didn’t go so well when we sealed off the tank.”

“What happened?” Jon asked, only half listening, his eyes following the redheaded creature who had seemed to spot him, she came closer and pressed her hands to the glass as she looked him up and down. Her eyes were the loveliest shade of blue.

“The worst storm White Harbor has ever seen.”

“Wait, _what?”_ Jon tore his gaze away from the mermaid in front of him to look at Ned, “you think that a mermaid caused a storm?”

“Oh yes,” came the voice of Samwell as he hurried over excitedly from his place behind his books, “mermaids being able to control the seas is a very popular occurrence in mythology. The Greeks say that Alexander The Great’s sister, Thessalonike, turned into a mermaid after her death. She would swim the Aegean Sea and ask any sailors she encountered if her brother still lived. I-if they did not answer _“yes! He lives and reigns and conquers the world!”_ then she would stir up terrible storms that would doom any ship and the men aboard them.”

Jon stared at the rotund man for a while. He had a round face that was still aglow from recounting something that was obviously of great interest to him. “But that is just a myth.”

“And weren’t mermaids a myth to you before you saw what you see now?” Ned asked

Jon swallowed, his eyes returning to the red hair floating around the mermaid’s face. She smiled brightly as their eyes met and turned herself upside down so that her tail pointed skyward while she continued beaming at him through the glass. Ned chuckled. “She’s in a playful mood today. I think she likes you.”

“This is unreal,” Jon whispered to himself.

“No, it is very real indeed, Mr Snow,” Ned responded. “We need you to try and decipher a way to communicate with these creatures. We need to let them know that we mean them no harm. We wish to learn from them and their kind.”

“There’s more of them?”

“Yep,” Val replied, tapping at a few buttons and bringing up some photographs on screen in front of them. “We think all the members of our pod are family, but we are yet to see any specimens with enough age to be a parent,” Ned shifted on his cane beside Jon. Val pointed to the first photo. The redheaded mermaid came as close as she could and twisted herself about as if trying to see what they were looking at on the screen. “This male seems to be the oldest. He has the same colour eyes and hair as red over here,” she pointed with her thumb to the mermaid whose nose was practically pressed to the glass. She broke into a wide smile when Jon looked up at her. He found himself so dumbfounded that he was unable to smile back. “Then we got red, the trouble-maker-” Val indicated to where the brunette mermaid had picked up a piece of coral and was currently tapping it at various places on the glass, “-there’s two younger males too, but we hardly ever see them. Red is the one who visits most frequently. She seems to like the music and is very interested in us.”

“So, what do you say, lad?” Ned asked, clasping him on the back. “Will help us?”

Jon looked up to ‘red’, who seemed to be thrilled to have his attention once more. She twirled herself around and around animatedly, making little bubble hoops that fizzled up her body before she returned to the glass and pressed her bare chest against it.

Val laughed. “Well, she’s never done that before.”

Jon gulped and tore his eyes away from her breasts before shaking his head. _She’s a… a fish-person… STOP STARING AT THE BREASTS OF A FISH-PERSON!_

 


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO WEEKS LATER…**

“She’s waiting for you again, Snow,” Val called out in greeting as he descended the metal stairs of the Observation Lab. Sure enough, as he looked up from the coffee he was clutching on to, Red was there, hands pressed to the glass with the ocean behind her. Her lips spread into a wide grin as their eyes met and she did a sort of excited little backflip before coming back to the glass, bubbles rising from her display. She settled in front of the chair that Jon had unofficially claimed as his, looking from him to the chair expectantly as he stood there staring dumbly. Val snorted. “She’s learnt your habits already.”

Jon made his way to the deskspace he’s been working at for the past two weeks and placed his coffee down next to his notes from yesterday. He opened the bag of pastries he’d picked up on the way in to work that morning. “Anyone want a pain au chocolat?” Jon called out to no one in particular. In the two weeks since he’d started working at Stark Research there hadn’t been more than four people in the lab at any one time. He stuck his hand into the paper bag and blindly pulled out one of the treats, his eyes staying on Red as he brought the pastry to his mouth and took a bite. She watched his every move – until Val came over to snaffle herself one of his offered goodies. Red’s frown at Val coming over to him morphed into a scowl as the blond plucked a tasty treat and wandered back to her work station.

_Curious._

“She alone again today?” Jon mumbled through his chewing.

Val brushed at her mouth and swallowed. “Yep. I think the others are getting sick of watching her make moon-eyes at you.”

“Moon-eyes?”

“Oh yes,” Sam commented from out of nowhere, wandering up behind Jon and reaching around to steal a pastry, “human and mermaid unions have been documented in many culture’s folklore.”

“That’s… weird.”

“Face it, Snow,” Val said, not looking away from her computer screen, “Red here has got the hots for you.”

Jon looked back to Red and watched her twirl around enthusiastically as she beamed back at him. “But-“

“She _has_ visited every day since you started,” Sam mumbled as her chewed, “we used to see her once or twice a week.”

Jon rubbed at his beard as he glanced from Red to the observation tank that he was yet to see any of the mermaids venture into.

_I wonder._

**ONE MONTH LATER…**

_‘Jon’_ Red signed happily with a J-shaped dip of her pinky finger as she mouthed his name. Jon smiled and waved as he got settled at his desk – a desk that he’d moved to be the other side of the observation tank; a trick that had forced Red to start tentatively swimming into the tank if she wanted to be able to see him. She had grown bolder and bolder, now that she knew they wouldn’t seal her in there like the team had done once with the little brunette mermaid.

 _‘Good morning, how are you?’_ he signed, pleased when Red was able to understand the question and responded accordingly. He was making real progress, and much faster than he’d ever imagined. None of the other mermaids seemed all that interested in communicating, but Red kept coming back every day and would stay in that observation tank right in front of him for the whole time that he would be sitting there.

She was intelligent, he was coming to realise. She regarded him intently and learnt new signs quickly. She seemed very eager to please him and kept bringing him ‘gifts’ too – the floor of the observation tank was currently littered with an array of different colourful seashells and odd bits of coral that she would offer to him through the glass. Jon would sign his gratitude back at her and she would ask the same thing every time – ‘ _Jon swim?’_

Today was no different it seemed as Red held up a pretty peach-coloured conch shell in both her hands before placing it on the bottom of the tank. _‘Jon swim?’_ she asked, her eyes almost pleading with him.

 _‘Thank you,’_ he replied, gesturing to her gift, ‘ _it’s beautiful.’_

_‘Jon swim?’_

Jon shook his head with a remorseful smile. _‘I’m sorry. No swimming.’_ Red pouted back at him, making his lips twitch a little in fond amusement. He couldn’t help how his eyes would occasionally flick down to her bare breasts. Luckily, this time she had not noticed – when she does catch him at it, Red has a habit of pushing her chest against the glass like she had done that very first day. Val thinks she’s flirting with him which is a ridiculous notion – she’s a fish-person after all… a completely different species! Deciding to distract her (and himself), Jon opened his desk drawer to root around for an appropriate learning tool for today. Red had already worked her way through the sign language flip books used for toddlers and a few of the ones for older children too. He decided to concentrate on some more fingerspelling and picked up some picture cards to use to quiz her.

“How’s she doing?” Ned asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

“She’s doing great, actually,” Jon smiled proudly to his boss, “she’s keen to learn and she keeps trying to engage with me.”

Ned nodded knowingly. “Hm.”

Red started to thrash her tail as her head bobbed back and forth between the two humans in front of her. She looked to Ned and held and open palm sideways-on from her face, her thumb extending and pressing to her forehead. _She’s making the sign for ‘father’_ , he realised, scrunching his brow in confusion.

“What does that mean?” Ned asked.

“I… I think she thinks you’re my Dad? She’s making the sign for ‘father’.”

Ned’s head snapped back to the tank, his face tinged with a little bit of awe and a little bit of… sadness? His lips twitched into a small fleeting smile back at Red before he cleared his throat and turned back to Jon. “Well, I suppose we both have the look of the north,” he chuckled. “Have you heard her talk yet?”

Jon frowned to himself. “Do we know that they _can_ talk?”

“They can talk,” Ned replied, rather matter-of-factly as he walked around the observation tank, moving closer and putting his hand up to the glass. Red followed him and placed her palm over his from the inside.

“How do we know? I didn’t see any notes on vocal abilities in any of the files that were handed to me?”

Ned dropped his hand but stayed where he was, watching Red as her auburn hair billowed all around her head. “Mermaids have been known to sing to sailors, calling them to perilous seas in some of Sam’s books.”

Jon’s eye’s flicked over to Sam’s desk, still littered with ancient texts. The man in question was currently hunched over a large volume, he had white archive gloves on and was using a magnifying glass to examine the age-stained page. Jon still wasn’t convinced that everything that was written in those old dusty books was true. He preferred having physical proof of something rather than relying on stories.

“We haven’t sealed off the observation tank with her in it yet.” If they were to open the top of the tank and allow her head to break the surface, they would need to seal off the rest of the ocean or risk a very, _very_ wet lab. “She seems quite happy in there though.”

“Ask her if you can close it.”

Jon sucked in a breath. He’d read the reports and watched the surveillance tapes from when they’d sealed the doors with the younger, brunette mermaid inside. Two people had died at sea that day when a freak storm broke out not far from the facility. Their boat had capsized due to colossal waves – waves that stirred up at exactly the same time as the mermaid realised she had been trapped and receded as soon as she was set free. He recalled the video evidence from the lab, the distressed way she had thrashed her tail and tried to prize apart the doors that sealed the tank replayed in his mind. “Are you sure you want to risk that?”

“Ask her,” Ned smiled.

Jon shifted and Red’s gaze instantly went to the movement, a bright smile on her face as she blinked back at him. He returned the smile and raised his brows as he pointed to the doors of the tank. Lifting both hands with open palms facing her, he moved them together in a closing motion, making the appropriate sign. A crease formed on her forehead before she looked to the doors and then back to Jon. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip in a startlingly human gesture of nerves. She nodded.

Jon held his breath as Ned pushed some buttons on a nearby control panel, the doors gliding closed with a muted clunk. Red swam up to the seal and pressed her hand to it, she twisted her head to look back at him over her shoulder. She looked worried. Jon forced a smile and made the sign for ‘ok?’, his fingers curling into a circle. The mermaid swam back to him and mimicked his sign back to him.

“Well, so far, so good,” Ned grunted, pushing yet more buttons. The top of the tank began to slowly slide mechanically away to the side, gradually revealing the surface of the water. Red swam around and around the tank as the top moved. She didn’t look too sure of what was happening.

“Let’s go up,” Ned commented, leaving his place at the control panel and walking fast with his cane. There was a metal staircase that led up to a viewing platform, much like the platform that one stands on as you enter the lab. Jon followed him up. The glass top of the tank had now slid all the way over and was being turned with a mechanical hinge so that it hung against the side, awaiting to be told to be put back in place. It dripped a small amount of sea water onto the lab floor.

From their viewpoint now, they were looking down into the tank. Red stopped swimming as Jon watched her head tentatively break the surface, keeping the water level up to just under her nose as she looked around nervously. The metal grated platform that they were standing on was only just higher than the top of the observation tank, if Jon were to sit at the edge and dangle his feet, he’s sure that the water would come up to his calves. Red had her back to them, her auburn hair dark and wet, and plastered to her head. Jon’s hands gripped the railings tightly as he watched her slowly turn around until she spotted them standing above her. She broke into a lovely smile as the rest of her face and shoulders revealed themselves out of the water.

“On sim?”

Jon sucked in a breath over his teeth and gripped the rail even tighter. “She _can_ talk,” he said to himself, utterly astounded.

“Of course she can,” Ned replied, grinning down at the beautiful creature in the tank.

“On sim?” Red repeated, this time making some signs with her hands. Jon watched the movement with a crease to his brow before his brain caught up with him.

“Oh! _Jon swim?”_ he realised out loud before shaking his head and putting both hands on his chest, “Jon,” he said deliberately slowly as he indicated to himself. “Jon.”

“J-on?” Red repeated, looking unsure until he nodded to her encouragingly, “Jon! Jon! Jon!” she shouted, dissolving into a fit of giggles and floating on her back, “Jon! Jon!”

Both Ned and Jon burst into a bark of laughter.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Ok Red, how about this one?” Jon asked as he sat cross-legged up on the viewing platform above the observation tank two weeks later. Red had been quite happy for them to continue to seal the tank shut so that she could raise her head above the water and set free her voice, trying out different words and attempting to string together sentences. She was currently right at the edge of the tank and Jon wondered if she had the upper body strength to reach up and use the platform to haul herself out of the water. _Not that a mermaid would want to do that_. Showing her a picture of a face with a dramatically turned down mouth, Jon waited to see if she was able to put a name to the emotion. Instead she looked to him, confused. Jon sighed. She _knew_ this one, he was sure of it. “He’s _sad_ , or _ups_ -“

“Red?” the mermaid asked, blinking up at him.

“Uh, yeah… we, um… call you ‘Red’… because of your hair,” he explained, tugging on his own locks. Her brow only furrowed deeper. She knows colours, Jon is sure of it, he’s quizzed her on them a few times too.

Red scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “San-sa.”

“Sansa?”

The mermaid began nodding enthusiastically. “Sansa,” she repeated, placing her hands above her breasts, mimicking Jon’s actions when he’d corrected her on his own name. “Sansa.”

Jon’s smile widened. “That’s a nice name, Sansa.”

“Nice?”

“Yes. Nice… beautiful… um… _pretty._ ”

“Pretty?” Sansa echoed, trying out the sound of the word.

Jon nodded. “Yes. Pretty.”

“Jon pretty,” Sansa declared, “Jon pretty! Pretty Jon!”

Val snorted from her station on the other side of the lab where she was making notes on the older male that had come with Sansa today. Jon felt his cheeks flush as he chuckled. “Uh…thank you, Sansa.”

“Pretty-pretty-pretty,” she raised her tail and floated on her back, “pretty, pretty Jon!”

Glancing over to Sam at his desk, he could see the larger man’s shoulders shaking as he was no doubt listening to Sansa’s proclamations she was repeating to herself loudly in a sing-song sort of voice. She flipped suddenly, diving down to the bottom of the tank with a delicate splash of her tail. When she re-emerged, she held up a small striped spiral shell. “Pretty shell.”

“Yes. Pretty shell,” Jon nodded. Sansa threw it up to the platform where it landed in front of his crossed legs with a metallic ‘plink’ sound. Jon picked it up. “Thank you.”

“Pocket,” she inclined her head towards his hoodie. Jon supposes he should wear a lab coat like his colleagues, but he’s never been told that it was mandatory, so he likes to keep it comfortable. “Pocket,” Sansa repeated, urging him to tuck the shell away. Jon complied. “Jon keep.” Jon didn’t remember teaching her that word.

“You,” he pointed the eraser end of his pencil at her, “are cleverer than you’re letting on.” _When had she started picking up additional words?_

“Jon clever” Sansa replied, making him bark out a laugh before she swam right to the edge of the tank and reached up to the platform. She kicked out her tail and pulled herself up until she had her forearms holding her weight on the metal in front of him. Jon held his breath. She’d never done anything like this before. He thought perhaps he should stand up and move away. Jon’s instinct is that she wouldn’t hurt him, but she _is_ an unknown entity after all.

“Hey!” Val shouted, “Jon! Do you need help?!” She sounded concerned, like she feared for his safety but all Jon could do in that instant was stare back at those dazzling blue eyes that blinked at him. Droplets of seawater littered her skin and her hair was plastered down her neck and shoulders. She smelt of salt. His pencil dropped from his hand and rolled into the tank with barely an audible ‘splish’.

Sansa tried to shuffle forward as much as she could on her arms, the edge of the platform digging into her stomach. She looked him in the eye and whispered, “Jon swim.” The words came out as a statement rather than the plea they normally were before she let go and slipped back into the tank, the water swallowing her up with a splash as it sloshed over the sides.

 


	4. Chapter 4

_This is fucking insane,_ Jon thought to himself as he sat in his now frequent place atop the viewing platform that looked over the observation tank. _I’m not gonna do it. I can’t. I-_ The opening reel for Disney’s The Little Mermaid finished on his laptop and Sansa had gasped when the first cartoon mermaids appeared on the screen. This had been another helpful learning tool for her – films and TV – it was an interesting and engaging way for Sansa to hear different dialogue and so far, she had loved watching various YouTube clips from kids movies. Jon had thought about this particular film for her last night and promptly paid to be able to screen the whole thing on his computer. But that wasn’t what was bothering him.

Sansa came as close to the side of the tank as she possibly could, her hands curling over the edge of the metal platform he sat upon as she peeked at the images on his laptop screen. All Jon could see were her fingers and a pair of ocean blue eyes peering over them, wide with awe as she watched the vivid colours of the animation. He smiled at her even though she was too busy to notice before his gaze wandered to his desk down below, where his satchel lay atop some of his paperwork. _I can’t believe I brought my swim trunks…I… I can’t get in there with her… I…_ Jon’s musings were cut off when Sansa gasped at the screen once more. She pointed and nodded her head towards the image of Ariel. “Red.”

Jon grinned back at her. “Yes. Like you.”

“Pretty… Pretty red hair.”

“Yes,” he beamed, “pretty red hair.”

She seemed pleased with herself before her face morphed into a frown at his laptop. And then she was gone, diving with the faintest of splashes into the tank only to re-emerge with two creamy coloured scallop shells that she had brought in with her previously. Looking to the movie playing on Jon’s laptop once more as he sat beside it, Sansa proceeded to try and fit the shells over her breasts, mimicking the shell bra coverup that Ariel wore.

Twisting the shells and then letting them go, for them to only fall off and drift back down towards the bottom of the tank, Sansa looked thoroughly frustrated. Her pink tongue poked out from between her lips as she attempted once more, concentrating on trying to get the shells to stay somehow. She huffed and splashed in defeat after a while before lifting up both shells and holding them out towards Jon. “On,” she commanded, “Help. Jon help,” Sansa pressed the scallop shells to her chest once more, “on… Jon help.”

Jon felt his cheeks flush as he shook his head. “No, Sansa.”

She frowned and pointed to the movie playing beside him. “Pretty,” Sansa declared, looking back down at the seashells in her hands, “pretty… pretty shells.”

He shook his head again. “Sansa is already pretty. Sansa doesn’t need shells.”

Sansa dropped the scallop shells and swam back over to him, curling her hands over the edge of the platform once more and bringing her face close so that her chin rested on her fingers. “Jon is pretty,” she whispered to him.

He laughed. “Thank you, Sansa.” Her attention returned to the film after that, her face lighting up or caught in rapture as her eyes flit over the screen.

_‘But daddy, I love him!’_ Ariel proclaimed on screen at the same time as Ned approached them both, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Daddy, I love him!” Sansa squealed up at Ned as he came to a stop and Jon scrambled to his feet. “Daddy, I love him! I love him!”

Ned laughed. “Is that right?” he chuckled to himself before turning to Jon, opening his mouth to talk but being cut off by Sansa as she watched King Trident destroy Ariel’s grotto of treasures.

“No!” she yelped and shook her head emphatically, “Oh no! Oh no!”

_Gods_ , Jon thought. She looked so distraught, so sad, so… _human_ that Jon had to suppress the urge to jump in the water and comfort her in his arms. Ned lowered himself to his haunches, one steadying hand on his cane. “Hey,” he said softly. Sansa turned her wide sorrowful eyes up to Jon’s boss. “It’s alright, sweetheart… her father is sorry.”

Sansa sniffed and turned back to the film. “Sorry,” she repeated to herself quietly. “Father is sorry.”

Jon decided not to enter the water with Sansa that day. He kept the idea to do so to himself as well. Some days though, as he’s stuffing the items he’ll need for the day into his satchel back at The Merman Hotel in the mornings (Stark Research having been willing to foot the bill for his stay there until he finds more suitable accommodation), Jon glances over at the polished mahogany writing desk and spies the small striped shell that Sansa had insisted he keep. Some days his pale blue swim trunks end up in his satchel, some days they don’t. Today they’d found themselves inside his bag, making it feel like there was a ton of extra weight inside as he passed through security on his way to the lab. _You’re crazy for even considering this,_ Jon told himself. But then he’d remember her sparkling blue eyes and those two whispered words.

Sansa waved at him as she waited, already in the observation tank. He smiled and waved back before punching in the code to seal off the ocean and open up the top. The mermaid inside swimming around and around as she awaited the opportunity to break the water’s surface. Jon glanced at the huge view of the ocean, Sansa had come with the little brunette mermaid today. He smiled as he watched her chase a shoal of little silver fish, seemingly uninterested in the humans.

“Happy morning!” Sansa called out with a cheery smile as he made his way up the metal staircase to his usual spot on the viewing platform.

Jon laughed. “ _Good_ morning,” he corrected. Sansa cocked her head and contemplated him.

“Sansa _happy_ ,” she declared, “Sansa have _happy morning.”_

“Alright then,” he chuckled, “I won’t argue with your logic. What would you like to do first?” Jon pulled out a couple of worksheets from his file and held them up for her to see the images on the front, “shall we talk about family or food?”

“Ariel.”

_Oh God, what have I started?_ Jon thought with a smile. “Again? You can’t watch movies all day, you know.”

“Ariel,” Sansa pressed, repeating her demand.

“Are you sure?”

Sansa said nothing, only opening her mouth to mimic the singing from the scene where Ursula, the evil sea witch steals Ariel’s voice. _‘Aah-aah-ah, aah-aah-ah…’_

“Alright, alright,” Jon conceded, giving her a small grin as he headed back down the stairs to grab his laptop and set her up with the film. _She can sing pretty well. Not trying to lure me to my doom I hope_ , he pondered, flicking his eyes over to his colleague Sam. He pushed his swim trunks aside in his satchel to get at his laptop.

Jon set her up with her movie, asking her a few questions as she watched.

_“What do you think of Sebastian?”_

_“Funny!”_

_“Can you tell me about Flounder?”_

_“Friend!... Yellow blue friend!”_

_“Why do you like watching this?”_

_“Ariel… Eric… love... happy.”_

At about halfway through the film, Jon stood up and stretched. Sansa was still enraptured by the song _‘Kiss The Girl’_ so he wandered down the steps and over to the large view of the open ocean, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he stared into the deep blue. The brunette mermaid appeared, as if from out of nowhere. She blinked at him through the glass and tilted her head, looking him up and down before scrunching her nose almost in disgust.

“Arya,” came Sansa’s voice. She had abandoned _The Little Mermaid_ and was now at the side of the tank closest to Jon, watching him and the brunette mermaid.

“Arya?... Is that her name?”

Sansa nodded. “Sister.” She looked to ‘Arya’ once more and stifled a giggle. “Arya no li-“ stopping herself, Sansa’s brows knit together as she searched for better words, “Arya _doesn’t_ … like… Jon…… Arya doesn’t like tank.”

“I see,” he responded, unable to stop the spread of a grin on his lips. This was the longest sentence structure she’s managed to string together unprompted. “Why doesn’t Arya like me?”

“Sansa like Jon.”

“Your sister doesn’t like me… because you like me?”

“Yes,” she confirmed before looking to her sister once more. Arya stuck her tongue out and decided to swim off, leaving her sister behind. Sansa sighed and allowed herself to sink into the water. She swam around for a while, picking up the various bits of coral and seashells, arranging them here and there at the bottom of the tank.

“Hey,” Jon said softly once he’d gone back up to the platform and Sansa had finally bobbed her head above the water’s surface, “Sansa happy?” Jon asked simply.

Her mouth twisted with a hint of amusement and Jon realised that she’d understood that he’d simplified his speech for her. “Sansa happy… Jon make Sansa happy.”

“Good,” he smiled before he grabbed his notepad and began scribbling down the progress she’d made today – correcting herself and linking different words effectively.

“Jon?” Sansa whispered, making him jump. He hadn’t realised that she had drifted closer, her nose practically pressed to the edge of the metal platform as her two big blue eyes peered up at him. “Jon swim?” she asked quietly once more. “Jon swim… make Sansa happy.”

“I-“ Jon glanced up to where his colleagues were busy over one work station or another, none of them paying them any mind. His heart thudded in his chest. “I don’t know.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

_This is insane. I am insane for even considering this. WHY am I considering this?_ Jon’s mind raced as he neared his satchel. Everyone had been long gone from the lab, the main lights were off and there was only an eerie glow from his own desk lamp and the lights around the observation tank area _. “Don’t work too hard_ ,” Val had called out before closing the main lab door and went home for the night. But this wasn’t work. He wasn’t planning on staying behind to improve Sansa’s understanding of different adjectives, like he had claimed to his colleagues. No – Jon had decided to give in to Sansa’s pleas and finally pull on those pale blue trunks that have been burning a hole in his satchel for more than two months. He can’t quite fathom why he feels the need to please her this way – only that he hopes the myths of mermaids calling men to their watery dooms are not true. _She wouldn’t do that,_ he tells himself, glancing to where Sansa was now watching _Lilo and Stitch_ on his laptop. _She wouldn’t._

Jon took his swim shorts with him to the large cupboard at the back of the lab where Sam keeps his impressive archive of ancient books. He changed quickly, too afraid that if he took his time, doubts would creep in and his mind would see sense again. When he immerged, he tried to wander back over to his desk with purpose and silence his sheepish nerves. He neatly folded up his clothes and glanced up at the tank. Sansa had abandoned _Lilo and Stitch_ and was staring at him open-mouthed and wide-eyed. “Jon?” she asked, looking him up and down a little puzzled, her tail swishing back and forth extremely slowly.

“Jon swim,” he simply replied and ascended the staircase up to the viewing platform, the metal grate indenting uncomfortably on his bare feet as he went. He sat down on the edge and dipped his legs into the water, the coldness coming up to his calves. Sansa stayed still, watching him from the far side of the tank. It looked as though she was holding her breath as Jon lowered himself in, his own breath leaving his lungs in a whoosh at the cold temperature of the seawater. When he finally relieved his arms of holding his weight against the viewing platform, Jon’s body sunk, the oceanwater swallowing him past his head. He bobbed back up above the surface and scrubbed the water away from his eyes. When he blinked them open again, Sansa was mere inches away from his face making him startle and rear back.

“Jon swim,” she whispered hoarsely, as though she couldn’t believe it. “Jon swim!” Sansa repeated more loudly, her voice ringing with excitement as her face was split by an almighty grin. “Jon swim! Jon swim!” Flipping backwards, her body twisted and twirled in an underwater celebration before she came back to him, staying submerged as Jon kept one hand reached up to hold onto the metal viewing platform. His heart raced as she circled his feet, seemingly very interested in his legs. He held his breath when she reached out to touch his shin, tentatively with one hand at first, but then was joined by the other. Sansa’s touch was soft and cool as she smoothed down to his feet where her fingers pinched at his toes making him yelp and kick before her palms glided back up again, travelling higher and higher on his thigh.

“Ok, that’s enough of that,” he laughed nervously, reaching down to hold her wrist and gently bring her back up to face him.

The top of Sansa’s head breached the water’s surface and slowly her face emerged right before him. Jon swallowed as he continued to tread water, his one free hand fanning slowly back and forth as they stared at one another. Sansa giggled as if she couldn’t believe what it was she was seeing. Her eye’s sparkled back at him as a huff of a laugh full of nerves left his lungs. Reaching up slowly, Sansa cautiously stroked down his cheek with one cool finger. Her touch was like a bead of water slowly running down his face. Her eyes followed her own movement as her finger glides down to his jaw, more fingertips joined the original and Jon felt her explore his beard. Sansa flattened her palm against the short hairs and giggled once more. “Tickle,” she said, clearly amused. “Funny.”

“Yes,” Jon laughed, “funny.” Sansa placed her other hand on his shoulder, making him gulp again. “Very funny,” he whispered to himself hoarsely as he watched the mermaid’s curiosity and confidence with him blossom.

“Jon touch,” Sansa declared once she was seemingly satisfied with her hand’s exploration about his face, hair and shoulders. She grabbed Jon’s free hand and brought it up to cup her cheek, leaning into his palm in a gesture that was so endearing that it made his heart thud a little harder. His thumb swept out over the apple of her cheek all of its own volition, making Sansa close her eyes as a smile spread across her lips. She repeated her command, “Jon touch,” as she guided his hand to her head. “Pretty red hair.”

“Yes,” he grinned, his fingers sinking into the silky wet strands. He lowered his hand to the water again and twirled around with a tendril of her floating hair. “Pretty red hair.”

“Jon likes,” Sansa nodded as if stating a plain-as-day fact. She watched him play with the submerged locks that fanned out from where they sunk into the seawater. Jon chuckled and nodded along with her. _Yes,_ he thought, _Jon likes._ “Oh!” Sansa gasped and grabbed a hold of his hand before fitting it over her left breast rather abruptly. “ _Jon likes!”_

Jon’s brain short-circuited for around two seconds as the soft flesh filled his palm perfectly. Sucking in a breath, he whipped back his hand. “What?! No!” he shook his head, his face feeling aflame.

Sansa only nodded her head as vigorously as he shook his own. “Jon _do_ likes!” she argued, her brows knit in confusion as she yanked his hand back to her chest. “Jon _look_ at….at….” cocking her head, her eyes flitting to the side, he could see she was trying to recall if she knew the term or not. “… what name?” she asked finally, pressing his palm more firmly against her flesh, the poke of her nipple pushing into his palm.

Jon swallowed and stuttered out a reply. “Uh… breasts… they’re called breasts.”

Sansa’s face lit up at the new knowledge. “Jon look at breasts. Jon likes breasts,” she declared matter-of-factly.

_Seven Hells._

He tried to pull away, but she had a surprisingly strong grip on him. “Yes,” his tongue flicked out to lick at his lips. Sansa’s eyes followed the movement, “I-I… _do_ ,” he said slowly, looking her directly in the eye, “but I shouldn’t touch you… _there.”_

“Sansa _likes_ Jon touch,” she whispered, holding his gaze with hers. Her hand left its place from atop his where he continued to cup her and wound around his neck instead. Before Jon knew what was happening, Sansa had moulded herself to him, her slippery-wet chest flush with his, her face pressed to the side of his neck and her long flowing tail wrapped around his legs. Jon’s heartrate thundered as she clung to him, with her soft breasts pressed to his front, her smooth scales against his knees and her hot breath just below his ear. “ _Jon_ likes Sansa touch?” she asked.

He nodded and closed his eyes. _Oh Gods, this was a mistake._ Sansa giggled in his ear and then promptly swiped the flat of her tongue up the tendon in his neck to his earlobe.

That was when the unthinkable happened. He felt his cock start to harden. Sansa giggled again and squirmed against him and _somehow_ Jon forgot that she was a completely different species. “Jon,” she whined, nuzzling at his neck and stroking his chest. “Kiss the girl,” she whispered.

Pulling away to blink up at him, Sansa’s wide inviting eyes called for him to come and happily drown. Her gaze dropped gradually to his mouth, and his to hers. The rhythm of his heart kicked up a thunderous beat in his chest and his pulse danced erratically in his veins. Slowly, tentatively, Jon felt himself lean forward without much thought other than that of the taste of her lips.

The first brush of contact was soft and sweet. The second a little firmer as Jon’s eyelids dropped closed and his tongue made a cautious stroke across Sansa’s lips. She moaned the most delicious sound from her throat as he was welcomed into her mouth, winding her arms around his neck tighter. Sansa’s tongue slid along his. She tasted of salt and summer skies. Jon released a groan into her mouth without meaning to, his free hand skimming down to her waist and pulling her even closer.

The thin silk-like float of her tail fin tickled at his foot and Jon suddenly remembered himself. “Sansa,” he gasped, pulling away. “We can’t-“ he shook his head, eyes as wide as a startled deer, “I have to-“ without any further explanation, Jon disentangled himself from her grasp and reached to haul himself up on the metal viewing platform. He heard her say his name but couldn’t bring himself to pause his exit of the pool. Water raced down his body in rivulets, dripping through the metal grate beneath his feet as he quickly padded to the stairs. Hearing the water stir, Jon forced himself to look back to see Sansa pulling herself onto the platform, her tail flapping at the effort.

“Jon!” she called out, making him rush back to her side.

“Sansa! No! You have to get back in the tank!”

“Legs!” she gasped as he crouched beside her soaked body. Reaching up to him, Sansa curled a delicate hand around his elbow. Jon helped support her as she sat up, making her smile in a way that he couldn’t help think was adorable even as his nerves were going into full on panic mode.

“Sansa,” he said, trying to sound soft, trying to sound reasonable and persuasive. “You have to get back in the water. You can’t come with me, sweetheart.”

“Sweet..heart,” Sansa beamed, liking the sound of the words. Jon flushed, only just realising he’d used the term of endearment.

“You have to go back.”

Sansa shook her head. “Legs,” she repeated.

“You don’t have-“ reaching out to place a hand on her scales, Jon paused, “-legs?” She was covered in a coating of something sticky, a mucus of some sort. He’d not read anything about that in Val’s notes. Perhaps she did not know. Lifting his hand, Jon rubbed his fingers together, knitting his brow at the odd silky slippery substance as it clung to his skin. He looked down to her lower half, her mermaid half, Sansa’s tail began to dull as her fin flapped and slap up and down against the platform’s surface. Gone was the pale silvery grey, gone were the little rainbows in her scales. She was changing right before his eyes.

“Legs,” Sansa nodded with a smile.

“I don’t understand.”

Sansa giggled and continued to flap her tail fin until it stilled. Her lower half looked to turn to some form of clear flesh. It reminded him of aspic and wobbled slightly with her movements. There was something beneath the gelatinous coating that was turning more and more transparent with every second that Jon blinked at it in confusion. He reached out tentatively once more, only pull back and stand in shock when a chunk of what used to be her tail sloughed off from his touch. “Sansa,” he gasped, “what…what’s happening?”

“Legs,” she beamed up at him, wiggling her lower half and causing more of the clear sticky jelly to fall away. Jon watched the discarded lumps of what was once her flesh melt and slip through the metal grate of the platform to drip down to the waters of the tank below.

He took a step back, and then another, until he felt himself bump into the cool wall. _What the fuck is going on?!_ Before he knew it, Sansa’s tail had almost dissolved completely, and he was left staring at what appeared to be a set of long slender human legs with skin as pale as cream.

Sansa wiggled her new toes. “Legs,” she laughed.

“Y-yes,” Jon whispered hoarsely, feeling nothing but dumbstruck, “yes, I-I see that.”

He watched with his jaw slack from shock as Sansa bent her knees experimentally, laughing happily, clearly amused that she could part them. If Jon was in any doubt as to whether she was now anatomically identical to a human woman, they would have disappeared quickly when she unabashedly revealed what was between her new legs. He tore his eyes away and shook his head as she reached out towards him with both arms. “Stand,” she asked, “please.” He blinked at her, his brain flooded with too many questions. Sansa huffed. “Jon help. Help Sansa stand… Please.”

Scrambling to his senses, Jon guided her to her feet for the very first time. She was unsteady and clung to him for balance. Her feet pigeon-toed inwards and her knees were a bit wobbly. She seemed to find all of this rather funny. “Sansa stand!” she laughed. “Sansa walk.”

“No, wait,” Jon flustered as he continued helping to keep her upright, “what is happening? Why….why is this happening?”

Sansa paused and cocked her head as she looked at him. She was in his arms and their faces were so close, he could count the freckles across the bridge of her nose and see the flecks of midnight blue in her eyes. “Sansa belong to Jon,” she explained, “Jon belong to Sansa.”

Jon shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

He’d had to carry her down the stairs. Of course he did. She had only just gotten used to walking, there was no way she would’ve managed the steps without falling and breaking her neck. Jon had lifted her bridal-style, a wet, completely naked beautiful woman who, up until about an hour ago, was covered in scales on her lower half and had fins was in his arms, enjoyed being lifted. She laughed and kicked her legs, clinging on to him and nuzzling at the side of his neck when his foot alighted the final step. She was currently sat at his desk chair, spinning round and round and round with a rather goofy grin on her face.

Jon eyed her with a sigh before bringing out another of Sam’s huge ancient books on mermaid folklore. He had wrapped a long white lab coat over Sansa’s shoulders and fastened every last button. She thought that was funny too. Jon swallowed at the memory of what was under the coat. He had found it hard to concentrate with her spinning and twirling around the lab completely naked as he frantically searched for the answer to what the hell was going on in one of Sam’s texts. When she’d bent over to look at something, her ass and privates on full view, he’d dropped probably the heaviest book in Sam’s collection on his foot. He cursed and hopped around, waving away Sansa’s concerned looks at him. That’s when he had rooted around for something for her to wear. He couldn’t afford any distractions, he had to figure out how to set things right again.

Sansa’s hair had begun to dry. Jon had never seen it this shade before – lighter and more coppery where the light from his desk lamp illuminated it from behind. “Jon home,” she said, once she stopped spinning.

“Once we figure out how to get you back to normal and back in the water, then I’ll go home, yeah,” he muttered as he turned the yellowing page, his eyes scanning for the answer to his problem.

“No. Jon _and_ Sansa home,” she got up and came over to him, her footsteps a little more sure and steady after her bout of dancing and spiralling around. Jon’s eyes flit to her long, long legs spilling out from under the pristine white lab coat – the only thing she’s wearing. Reaching over the book he was searching to turn the page, the dry ancient paper making a crinkling sound as it moved, Sansa scanned the words that will mean nothing at all to her, as well as a few illustrations. She flipped to the next page, and then repeated the action a few more times before she paused, her face lighting up as smiled widely and pointed to a depiction of a man carrying a mermaid in his arms, much like Jon had done to help Sansa down the stairs. “Jon see?” she turned that dangerously bright smile to him before nodding her head down at the illustration once more. “Jon take Sansa home.”

“What?!” he snapped before softening “I can’t do that, sweetheart,” he said quietly, urging her to understand.

She smiled at him once more and gave the book a nudge in his direction. “What say?”

Jon sighed and scanned the words, a crease appeared in his brow as his eyes darted back and forth trying to take it in.

_Should a human man take into his possession an item belonging to the sea-maiden, then he has entered an arrangement to take her as partner and wife. The sea-maiden shall live on land with her husband but yearn for her place beneath the waves and will never cease the search for her possession (usually a comb, interesting piece of coral or decorative shell). Should she find the item, then she will return to the sea and the marriage bond shall be broken._

Gaping from the page to Sansa, Jon’s eyes flit between hers and dropped to her widening smile. “You knew this would happen didn’t you? You…you gave me that shell… I took it home and… we…we kissed just now…is _that_ what gave you legs?”

Sansa nodded enthusiastically before winding her arms around his neck and pressing a peck of kiss to his stunned lips. “Sansa belong to Jon now.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Smuggling a naked girl in a lab coat out of the Stark Research facility at 10pm had been easier than Jon had expected. The receptionists had long gone home and the night security guard must’ve been making his rounds because they’d not seen him at his station by the entrance. Jon had bundled Sansa into the hire car he was using and tried to keep his eyes on the road as she animatedly pointed to everything she saw with awe and excitement. _Get her back to the hotel. Give her the shell. Bring her back to the ocean. Get her back to the hotel. Give her the shell. Bring her back to the ocean,_ was his mental chant to try and keep himself on track as he gripped the steering wheel. He could solve this problem. Everything will be fine.

Except it wasn’t fine. Not when he’s currently standing in the hotel room he’s called home for the past few months with a woman that used to be a mermaid a few hours ago sobbing in his arms. As soon as his key-card had allowed them access to his room, Jon had practically sprinted to his writing desk, plucked the shell he’d kept there and shoved it into her hands. He’d began to almost immediately herd her out the door, intent on taking her back to her watery home, when she dug in her bare heels and shook her head emphatically. “No, no, no!” she wrenched free of his grip, shoving the shell into his chest. “Jon keep!”

“But-“

“ _Jon keep!_ Jon hide!” Her lip quivered, and her eyes began to fill with tears. _Fuck! Don’t cry! Please don’t cry!_ “Jon keep,” she repeated, her voice scratchy and broken. Before Jon knew what was what, he’d scooped her up in his arms because he couldn’t bear to see her so upset. Sansa buried herself into his chest and there they stood for a while. Until Jon slowly, carefully peeled himself away from her. Her face was red and tear-stained, but she seemed to have calmed a bit.

Jon sighed and rubbed at his forehead as he contemplated what to do with the naked girl in the white lab coat. Taking both her hands in his, Jon began to speak softly to her as he looked her deep in her summer sky eyes, imploring her to understand. “Sansa,” his thumbs swept back and forth across her knuckles making her glance down, so he brought the collection of their hands up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to her fingers. _Softly, softly. Keep her attention. Make her understand._ “You have to go _home_ , sweetheart.”

Sansa only smiled a small watery smile. “Sweetheart,” she repeated, clearly pleased with the word.

“Sansa,” Jon tried once more, “do you understand? You don’t belong here.”

“Sansa belong to Jon.”

“No,” he shook his head and reached out to tuck a tendril of her hair behind her ear, “Sansa belongs in the ocean. Don’t you want to go home? What about your family?”

“Jon is Sansa home,” she nodded with a shuddering breath, “Jon is family.”

If he had been thinking straight, then Jon may have been able to prevent the smile that spread across his lips. But he couldn’t. Not this time. He’s never been someone’s family before. Not since his mother who raised him on her own had passed away in his late-teens. Even his past girlfriends hadn’t felt like family, and he supposes that _that_ is why the relationships never really lasted. He shook his head and tried to look serious. Sansa noticed.

“Jon happy?” she asked, her eyes searching his as a concerned crease formed between her brows. He didn’t respond. _‘Jon worried’_ more accurate, he thought to himself. She stepped closer. “ _Sansa_ make Jon happy?” she asked in a small, curious voice, her eyes dropping to his lips. He should stop this. He knows that he should. She’s leaning in to kiss him and he really needs to stop it because she’s a whole different fucking _species!_ But one flash of those eyes and tiny hitch of her breath and Jon’s forgotten all about what he _should_ do. There is only enough room in his mind for what he _wants_ to do. _Yes, Sansa makes Jon happy,_ he thinks, _Jon wants to make Sansa happy too._ Closer and closer she inches, watching his tongue roll out to wet his lips. Their noses bump a little and suddenly a loud gurgling growl breaks the silence of their held breath. Sansa giggles, her hands flying to her stomach.

“Are you hungry?” Jon asks, earning him a bashful sort of nod. “I’ll order something.”

_This is good,_ he thinks to himself as he’s turned his back on her and dials for room service. _This gives me time to think. Time to… time to not kiss her._

“Hello, can I order some food please?” he responds once the cheery voice of the hotel employee answers his call. The Merman Hotel boasts a round-the-clock room service with kitchens open all night. He feels his own stomach start to rumble at the thought, he hadn’t realised how long it had been since his lunch. “Can I get-“ Jon turns to look at Sansa, only to find her laid on her back atop his bed, her long, long legs straight up in the air while she looks up, entertained by watching her toes wiggling. From where he’s standing, the lab coat has ridden up and all he sees is miles of creamy leg sloping down to a round behind and the pink lips of her sex nestled between her thighs.

“What would you like to eat, sir?” the voice on the call repeats and the only answers Jon can think of right now are wildly inappropriate as he stares slack jawed at the sight before him. As if sensing his eyes on her, Sansa parts her legs to peer at him between them and _oh,_ this is worse, so much worse because now Jon can see _everything._ Sansa reaches out for him and whines his name, beckoning him to join her on the bed - and _fuck!_ How is he meant to function properly now?

Swiftly turning away, Jon splutters a cough and feels himself go raspberry red. Somehow, he orders some food, although he’s not quite sure _what._

When he turns back around Sansa is gone from his bed. He calls her name and follows the sound of giggling. Finding her in his en-suite bathroom, currently twirling around whilst winding the toilet paper around her body like a cartoon Egyptian mummy, Jon can’t help but laugh as he leans on the doorframe to watch her.

 


	8. Chapter 8

It doesn’t take Jon long to show her everything in his hotel room, explaining what some things are and what they’re used for. He sets her in front of the television, where she stays, completely captured by a re-run of an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. while Jon watches her, wondering what the hell he’s going to do with her.

There’s a knock at the door and Jon is relieved, his stomach is greatly anticipating whatever the hell it was he’d ordered. Only, when he opens the door, it’s not his room service that greets him but his boss instead. Jon’s heart plummets. _Oh God…this is it. This is how I’m getting fired._

“The next time you want to smuggle a mermaid out of a research facility, you might want to make sure to get rid of the CCTV evidence,” Ned says with a raised brow as he waves two tapes in front of him.

“Father?” Sansa calls from behind Jon, clearly having abandoned the TV. Jon can do nothing but gape as Ned pushes past him and enters his room with a smile for Sansa.

“Hello, Sansa,” he greets. Sansa wraps her arms around him in an embrace, although it’s nothing like the ones she shared with him. Ned pulls away and cups her face. “You have your mother’s look.”

“Mother,” she bites her lip and looks down.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Ned Stark responds softly, pulling her to his shoulder as he cradles the back of her head.

“I’m sorry but,” Jon says, closing his hotel room door and taking a step forward, “what is going on?”

Ned gives him a cursory look and presses a kiss to the top of Sansa’s head before he’s moving to sit on the bed. “She gave you something didn’t she?” Jon doesn’t respond. “And then you kissed her.”

Jon flushed, remembering what would likely be on those CCTV tapes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have got in the tank. She kept asking me to but I should-“

“But I’m glad that you did,” he interrupted smiling at Sansa. Jon sucked in a breath and opened his mouth about to voice more questions before Ned cut him off once more, “Jon, I would like to introduce you to my daughter.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

“So let me get this straight,” Jon says, scrubbing his hands down his face, “you…fathered some mermaids, but you’ve never been able to communicate with them… and _that’s_ why I was hired?”

“In essence, yes,” Ned nodded, placing his hand on top of Sansa’s. “Sansa’s mother saved me when I was a young stupid boy who thought he was a man. I had gone cliff diving with some friends. We drank, we egged each other on,” he paused to snort at his former self, “I got into some trouble when a swell of water took me closer to the rocks. I don’t remember much… just being tossed about and not knowing which way was up… and bubbles… there were lots of bubbles…the next thing I knew, this girl, this _beautiful_ girl with sky blue eyes and long auburn hair was staring down at me after I’m sure I coughed up half the fucking ocean, stupid boy that I was. She shoved this piece of sea-glass into my hand,” Ned pulled out a small green glass pebble, worn smooth from the ocean. He turned it over in his fingers and smiled down at the thing. “She didn’t say a word to me. I assumed she was a mute until I sat up and saw what she really was. She lunged for me before I could scramble up in shock... You’d think kissing wouldn’t’ve been enough to distract me from the fact she was half fish but…,” Ned looked to Sansa, “well, she was a very beautiful woman, your mother… before I knew it, her tail had melted away and she was laid there naked in the sand… I don’t know if I was still drunk, or concussed from hitting the rocks or what, but… one thing led to another and…” Ned’s mouth twitched into a fond smile.

“Baby,” Sansa supplied.

Ned nodded. “Yes, darling. Your older brother.”

“Robb,” she grinned, picking up a French fry from their room service meal and stuffing it in her mouth.

“Robb,” the older man repeated, sounding pleased at the name. “Although, I didn’t even know it at the time, she slipped back into the sea so fast. A few years went by and I thought I’d hallucinated the whole damn thing. There just couldn’t have been that beautiful girl on the beach. But then she came to me again. I was actually trying to sweet-talk this girl – taking her for a romantic stroll along the beach at dusk and all of that… but then I saw her, your mother, perched upon a rock around the jetty. Well, I made some half-baked excuse about feeling unwell and walked my date to her cab. As soon as I’d rushed back to where I’d seen her, all I could do was stare open-mouthed at this mermaid splashing and twirling around in the water below. I hadn’t imagined her – she was real after all. She threw this back up at me,” he handed the piece of sea-glass to Sansa, “and the next thing I know, I’m in the water too.” Ned paused to smile fondly at his daughter. “She kept her legs and stayed with me for a whole week that time.”

“She just kept coming back?” Jon asked, leaning forwards, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Yes. She was restless though, always eager to get back to the depths of the sea. It wasn’t until the fourth time she was ashore that she told me… or tried to tell me with what broken bits of language she’d picked up from me, that each time she’d visited, we’d made a babe together.”

Sansa grinned with a mouthful of French fries, somehow still managing to look elegant. “Baby,” she smiled.

Ned sighed. “Your mother would stay with me for a few weeks, keeping me captive in those ocean eyes of hers, until the call of the sea was too great. She’d search my pockets for the sea-glass and be on her way. I was fool enough to keep it ill-hidden having not known its importance until Tarly showed me something in one of his ancient books.” Ned paused to take the last sip of the coffee Jon had made him, he focussed on the bottom of the mug, swilling around the dregs. “The final time your mother came ashore, she… well, we were in an accident. A bad one. It’s what gave me my limp in my leg,” he tapped at his thigh, “and it’s what took your mother from me, from you, from your siblings.”

Sansa passed back the sea-glass. “Mother not come back.”

“No, she didn’t,” Ned gathered up Sansa’s delicate hands, “I’m so, so sorry darling. I wish I could bring her back for you.”

*****

Ned had stayed a while, until the small hours of the morning, talking with Sansa, trying to find out everything he could about Sansa’s siblings – about his children. Sansa had yawned and stretched out on Jon’s bed, the lab coat riding up dangerously high on her creamy thighs as she shut her sleepy eyes.

“I’ll bring her some proper clothes tomorrow,” Ned coughed, averting his gaze.

Jon knit his brow. “Aren’t you taking her with you? She’s your daughter.”

“No, lad,” the older man shook his head, “she gave you the shell. You and her are…well _married_ of sorts while she’s on land. She won’t want to part from you.”

“Married?”

_Should a human man take into his possession an item belonging to the sea-maiden, then he has entered an arrangement to take her as partner and wife. The sea-maiden shall live on land with her husband…_

Jon remembered the words from one of Sam’s ancient books on folklore. Somehow, he hadn’t really let them sink in at the time, too busy searching for an answer on how to get her back in the water. “She wouldn’t take the shell,” Jon blurted, “I tried to give it back to her so that she could turn back to how she was…how she’s meant to be… but she just started crying and refused to take it.”

“Oh?” Ned turned to look fondly over at Sansa who was now letting out sleepy little puffs of breath. She looked serene, content. “Well it seems she’s not ready to go back yet then.”

Ned left not long after that, stating that Jon could take a much time off from the lab to be with Sansa. _“Look at it as working from home,”_ he had smiled, _“teach her new things, new words, get to know her better.”_ He left with a kiss to Sansa’s temple and promise to visit his daughter again.

Jon found a blanket to drape over Sansa where she slept atop his bed before snatching a pillow to hunker down on the floor. He closed his eyelids with a deep sigh, the past day’s experiences running through his mind until he succumbed to the gentle embrace of sleep. He awoke once before dawn to find that Sansa had moved from the bed to curl her body into his where he lay there on the floor. She was asleep, her head resting on his chest and an arm slung around his waist.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Happy morning!” Jon heard in a bright, altogether too cherry voice that was at complete odds with how he felt – sleep-deprived and sore-backed. He blinked open his eyes and everything came back to Jon as Sansa stared down at him from her perch on his lap, her legs straddling his sides. His depraved mind reminded him that there wasn’t a stitch on her underneath that lab coat she wore. He began to get hard.

“Uh… yeah…happy morning,” he stuttered, moving quickly to get up, dislodging her from her seat upon him. He stumbled to the bathroom to splash his face with some water. Sansa followed him, making him jump and spin around when he’d spotted her in the reflection of the over-sink mirror. Taking a step closer, Sansa cupped his dripping wet face in both her hands.

“Jon not happy?” she asked, her voice laced with concern as her blue eyes flit between his grey ones.

Jon gave her a smile and wrapped his hands around her wrists. Something about her worry for him and his emotional state made a pleasant liquid warmth coat the inside of his chest. He realised that he _was_ happy. “Jon happy,” he reassured, his smile a bit wider now. Sansa looked relieved, she tipped herself closer and brushed her lips with his, making his happy heart beat like the wings of a hummingbird. Repeating the action, both their eyes fell closed. Jon allowed himself to get lost in her taste, in the feel of her pressed up against him and her gentle hands still framing his face. “We shouldn’t,” he breathed when he’d pulled away just a fraction, barely enough space between their lips for a whisper. “We shouldn’t, Sansa,” he repeated once more after yet more kisses. He could feel himself succumbing to her even though a voice in his mind yelled at him to stop. Sansa’s hand passed over the front of his boxers making him groan but then back away. _This was wrong. What was he thinking?!_

After dressing, Jon took the opportunity for some fresh air and time away from Sansa by going down to the bakery a block away to get them some pastries for breakfast. Sansa had whined, pouted and protested the fact that he was leaving her but at the time he had thought it for the best. _I need to clear my head._ In fact, he found himself eager to return and couldn’t have been away from her for more than ten minutes.

Spending the morning going over Sansa’s lessons with her propped up on his bed by big white fluffy pillows in stead of in her tank back at the lab was odd. Nice, but odd. Sansa continued to prove herself a fast learner and time soon passed until Ned arrived with bags and bags of brand new clothes and shoes, girly toiletries and other knick-knacks.

Ned stayed until after lunch, by which time, Sansa had only just finished gasping and cooing over each and every item he’d brought her, Jon’s bed now looking like a jumble sale as all her new possessions covered it. She held up a floaty looking sundress to her body and twirled around happily. “Why don’t you try it on?” Jon asked. Sansa nodded eagerly, throwing the dress down onto the bed and then trying to work the buttons of her lab coat, huffing with frustration when she couldn’t fathom them.

“Jon help?”

“Alright,” he cleared his throat and came near, raising his hands and trying desperately not to focus on the skin being revealed bit-by-bit, button-by-button. Jon swallowed painfully when he was finally able to push the lab coat off her shoulders, her long auburn hair thankfully obscuring some of her chest from his view. Taking the coat, Jon turns and moves to the desk chair, the furthest away he can get. He’ll give her some room, he thinks. _Perhaps I should step outside? Give her more privacy?_ There’s nowhere else for him to go in this hotel room and if she wants to try on all those clothes then-

“Jon,” he hears her say from closer than she had been before. He spins and stumbles back into his seat when he finds her directly in front of him.

She’s quick. Too quick. Before Jon knows what’s what, Sansa is on him, completely naked and straddling his thigh. Sucking in a breath, he shakes his head as his heart wants to hammer its way out of his chest. “Sansa,” he says in a low voice, “Sansa, we can’t.” _You’re a mermaid._

“Can’t?” she says, repeating his word without much interest as she begins to stroke his beard. Her hands smooth past the bob in his throat and over the expanse of his shoulders.

“Sansa, sweetheart,” he tries again, “we…. _shouldn’t._ ” Even as the words leave his mouth he tastes the way his resolve is melting on the tip of his tongue. _Gods,_ she is glorious, luscious yet svelte creamy curves, dusky rose tipped breasts and a sprinkling of copper curls at the apex of her thighs. He wants her, he realises with a pitiful whine at the back of his throat when she guides his hand to her chest.

“Sansa…hurt,” she says, a little unsure.

“Hurt?”

Shaking her head, Jon sees that she’s aware she’s used the wrong word. Her brows are furrowed, and her lips are pursed as she’s searching her memory for the correct term. “Sansa…. _need_ Jon,” she tries.

“I’m right here.”

With that, Sansa huffs and grabs both his hands, stuffing them eagerly and a little clumsily between her legs. “Sansa need Jon _here.”_

“Oh,” is all he can think to say when faced with the heat of her on his hands. He should pull away. At least that’s what he tells himself. It’s good advice – he should stand up, dislodge her from his lap and maybe go and take a cold shower because the Gods knows he needs one right now. But Jon’s not always been great at following good advice, so instead he twists one of his hands so the pads of his fingers find her clit and the other curls around her hip, nudging Sansa to rock against him. “Like that?”

Sansa’s eyes fall shut with a pretty sigh. She nods her head and hums her approval when he rubs circles into the silky wet heat in his hand. Her hands fists in his shirt front as she rocks harder and Jon thinks to bounce his leg in time with her hips. He’s hard as a rock when she opens her eyes again, staring deep into his own as she begins to pant his name.

“That’s it, good girl,” he whispers, his reservations all forgotten when she’s riding his leg like this. “Come on Sansa, come for me.”

They pick up quite the tempo before she snaps with a cry, slumping into his chest, panting his name and gulping on air. Jon skims soothing nonsensical patterns on the hot skin of her back with his fingertips until she rears up and takes his mouth fiercely, talking between hungry pecks, “Jon,” _kiss,_ “make” _kiss,_ “Sansa,” _kiss,_ “very, very,” _kiss,_ “happy.” Jon laughed between presses of her mouth. “Big happy,” she tries, making him chuckle some more. They don’t quite get back to her lessons – nor does Sansa try on any clothes that day.

 


	11. Chapter 11

“What is that?!” Sansa gasped, standing at the window and pointing to the street down below. Jon joined her there to see the beginnings of a parade turning the corner in the road. There were a few floats, people dressed in bright rainbow colours, dancing and twirling as on-lookers started to gather on either side. Jon opened the window and a flood of sound was let into the room – steel drums, whistles, people laughing and cheering, faint echoes of booming music. He spied a few people at the front handing out little rainbow flags.

“It must be Pride Week,” he remembered.

Sansa bounced beside him, her body humming with excitement. “What is it?”

“It’s a celebration.”

“Celebration what?”

Jon chuckled, “ _What are they celebrating?”_ he offered in way of correction.

“Yes,” she nodded enthusiastically, “ _What are they celebrating?”_ Sansa mimicked.

“Love,” Jon shrugged, “acceptance,” he added, looking back down at the parade, a few glitzy carnival dancers shimmying by.

 Sansa squealed. “We go?” Jon’s eyes flit to the bed, he’d been selfish with her for these past two weeks, ever since he’d made her come as she rode his thigh, he’d been desperate to see her reach those peaks of pleasure again and again. They’d spent a disgustingly large amount of time in bed with one another and their lips were constantly swollen from kissing. Sansa had tried more than once to touch him, the way that he now touched her rather frequently. But Jon knew that his resolve will break if he allows it. _Just give her pleasure, don’t think about yourself, if you do, you’ll end up doing something you might regret… she’s a mermaid for fuck’s sake! You shouldn’t want to fuck a mermaid!_

But _Gods,_ she made it difficult with the way she whined his name and begged for more. He knows he brings her to orgasm for himself as well as her, he can’t get enough of the way she sounds, the way she feels, the way her skin still tastes of the sea. Jon bites his lip as his eyes return to hers – _and fuck_ – how can he say no to a woman who looks at him like that? With a smile etched with joy and eyes shining with excitement.

By the time they’d gotten down to street level, the parade was well and truly in full swing. Sansa grabbed his hand and eagerly pushed to the front of the crowd that had formed. An all-male majorette troop were twirling and spinning their batons into the sky, Sansa gasped and clapped when they caught them. “Jon!” she patted his arm excitedly, “Jon! Look!” A woman dressed as a fairy with head-to-toe glitter and wings on her back came by. She rode on a white horse with a horn stuck on its head and glitter painted on its hooves and in its mane and tail. The woman smiled as she was handing out colourful leis, throwing one in Sansa’s direction. “Thank you!” Sansa called out as she caught it. Jon wonders if she thinks the fairy and the unicorn are real and briefly thinks to tell her the truth of the situation before reminding himself that he’s stood there holding hands with a real-life mermaid. A brass band marches by next and Sansa’s jumping up and down, twisting around so much to the music that even Jon can’t help but laugh. “Dancing!” she exclaims a little breathlessly.

“Yes, dancing,” Jon chuckles.

Not long after, a tall man dressed in drag comes over to hand them both a rainbow flag. Sansa gapes up at him before a big grin stretches across her face. “Beautiful!” she smiles, all sincerity and awe. The man thanks her and leans down from his lofty height atop some skyscraper platform heels to kiss Sansa on the cheek, leaving a bit of glitter there after he’d left. “She’s beautiful!” Sansa turns to Jon.

“Yes,” Jon laughs, “she is.”

Watching Sansa intently as the next float came by, Jon couldn’t help but grin. A large open golden clamshell revealing men and women dressed as multicoloured mermaids with other people in fish and seahorse costumes dancing amongst the bubbles coming from the float. The song that was blasting out was _‘Under The Sea’_ , one of Sansa’s favourites. She stood there gaping until, in a daze, dropped Jon’s hand and made a move to go and join them up on that float.

“Oh no you don’t,” Jon said, picking up her hand again to bring her back securely by his side. He made sure to interlace their fingers this time lest she try to slip away again. “You stay here with me.”

Sansa turned her head towards him, her lips twitching into a smile. “Sansa stay with Jon,” she nodded.

Jon liked the sound of that more than he cared to admit. He coughed and turned his attention back to the parade just in time to see that one of the mermaids on the float looked rather remarkably like Varys from Stark Research.

After the parade was over, Sansa spilled into the road and danced and twirled behind the last float, stopping to pick at the confetti on the floor and toss it up in the air for it to flutter back down as she laughed. Jon decided to take her to the ice cream parlour on the promenade before they headed back to the hotel.

*****

“Dancing!” Sansa exclaimed, spinning around with her lei around her neck, “lots of, lots of dancing!” she laughed, trying to tell her father of her adventures at the Pride parade earlier that day. “Beautiful people!”

“It sounds like you had a lot of fun darling,” Ned Stark smiled.

“Yes! Much fun! Big, big fun!”

Jon clicked the door closed behind him as he stepped into the hotel room. He’d gone out, as he normally does when Ned arrives, to allow the man some private time with his daughter. It’s an odd feeling while he takes himself to a little coffeeshop on the corner of the street. Even after only almost three weeks of having Sansa by his side, he’s not quite himself without her. He watches the clock and itches to return. His chest feels tight and his nerves are on end.

“Jon!” Sansa exclaims when she hears his arrival, halting whatever it was she was telling her father to bound across the floor and into his arms. “Missed you,” she breaths, nuzzling into the side of his neck and holding him tighter. Jon feels his heart breathe a sigh of relief when he inhales the scent of her hair. _I missed you too,_ he thinks to himself. Forgetting that his boss – _her father_ \- is _right there,_ Jon begins to pepper her bare shoulder with little kisses. Ned clears his throat.

“Oh, uh,” Jon untangles himself from Sansa and gives Ned a bashful look. “I wasn’t gone long.”

“Sansa was just telling me about the parade. She enjoyed herself,” he smiled.

“As did I,” Jon found himself saying.

“You should take her out more often. Show her more things. It can’t be that much fun cooped up in the hotel room all the time.”

Felling his cheeks redden, Jon tried not to think of what they had been doing for most of the time that they were ‘cooped up’ in this hotel room. _You’re meant to be helping her with her language skills, not spending hours kissing her and getting her off, for fuck’s sake Snow!_ “Yes Mr Stark. I will.”

Ned only narrowed his eyes as he looked between the two of them, although his smile remained intact, so there was that.

 


	12. Chapter 12

“This was a bad idea,” Jon grumbled to himself as he shot a warning glare at yet another drunken leering idiot who was eyeing _his_ Sansa in a pretty little lemon-yellow sundress. He gripped her hand tighter and pulled her towards the bar. Sansa laughed and continued to jig around at the booming bass of some Rhianna song that was blaring out of the speakers of ‘The Anchor’ nightclub.

Sansa swayed and shimmied to the music like she was born to do so. Her face was fixed with a permanent smile as she watched the bodies on the dancefloor, the flashing of the strobe lights and the people moving, talking, laughing, kissing. Jon barely had time to get his beer and some form of fruity concoction for her before she’s jumping up and down and begging him to take her onto the floor.

He knew she would love this. The dancing, the people, the bass of the music thumping right through their bodies. “Dance Jon! Dance!” she laughed, dragging him with her towards the pulse of the lights. She took a couple of sips of her drink but wrinkled her nose and handed it back with a shake of her head.

 _Vodka’s a no-go then_ , Jon laughed. He downed both their drinks quickly before she curled her body around him and moved in time with the rhythm of the club. No one would know she’d never heard this kind of music before or been to this type of place. It just felt like it all came naturally to her. Or at least, that’s how Jon saw it. He was far too busy being distracted by the way she undulated against him and wound her arms around his neck as she giggled in his ear to notice anything else though.

A few beers later, and Jon is desperate for a piss. He leads Sansa to the bar and tells her to stay put, the fear of losing her in the crowd whispering in the back of his mind. When he comes back out having relieved himself, a fearful jolt shoots down his spine when Sansa is nowhere to be seen.

“Have you seen a girl, red hair, yellow dress?” he asks anyone he can get his hand on. Panic rises in his throat until one guy nods his head and points him in the direction of a group of men gathered around a table.

Elbowing his way through the crowd, Jon gapes as he sees Sansa laid out on the table, her sundress rucked right up to her ribs, revealing her purple panties. She’s laughing as the men around her chant, little jello shots wobbling where they’re placed on her ivory skin on her thighs and stomach. One man steps up, ducking his head to take a shot and that’s enough to shake Jon out of his shock.

He shoves the would-be shot-taker away with a growl and hoists Sansa up over his shoulder, brightly coloured cubes of jello falling to the floor as Sansa giggles and the men boo and grumble. “Sorry mate! We didn’t know she had a boyfriend!” a man calls out to them as Jon is striding away with Sansa over his shoulder.

“I don’t have boy-friend!” Sansa shouts “I have a Jon!” Jon laughs and gives her bum a playful swot as he takes them back to the bar. He feels her laugh, her belly jumping against his shoulder. “Jon Dance!” she pouts her protest and Jon allows her to drag him back to the floor after he’d swiped another beer at the bar.

She moulded herself to him again, feeling like a puzzle piece that slotted in perfectly right next to him. _Gods,_ he thought as he felt his cock stir in response to the way Sansa ground her hips into his thigh. _What have you turned me into?_ All he could think about doing was dragging her back to the bliss of their room, kissing her some more and touching her, making her fall apart again if that’s what she wants. Anything – _anything_ \- she wants. It just so happens that what Sansa wants right now was to dance, and dance, and dance until her feet were sore and the lights were turned on in the club at some god-awful hour in the morning. Jon picked her up, cradling her to his chest to carry her bridal-style for the last block before they reached the hotel. Sansa swung her legs and held on tight smiling and babbling away about everything she’d seen, heard, tasted.

Fumbling with his key card, Jon found that it really didn’t help his concentration any when Sansa was peppering his neck with kisses and his eager hands were slowed a little by the alcohol he’d had that night. As soon as they fell through the door, giggling and laughing, Jon feels like he could be forgiven for lunging for her mouth and walking her backwards towards the bed – it feels like days since he’d tasted her properly, touched her and heard her moan and sigh his name (the fact that it had only been hours since all of those things was neither here nor there).

“Jon… Jon, touch me,” she whispers into his hair as she clutches onto it, directing his kisses down her neck with his curls tight in her fists. His pulse jumps wildly as he groans and blindly reaches down for the hem of her dress. Slipping his fingers into the silk, Jon finds her hot, silky-wet and grinding into his touch like the music from the club had followed them home. “Jon, more,” Sansa whined, gripping and twisting his hair and the fabric of his shirt in desperation.

He swooped up to lunge for her mouth again, as if sealing his mouth to hers would quiet her pleading. Jon knows – _he knows_ – that his resolve is fading. If Sansa asked him to go collect a few stars from the sky in a glass jar for her right now, he’d find a way to do it – so if she asked him…. If she moaned his name and squirmed beneath him and whined for more then-

“Love me,” she whispers into his mouth and the next thing he knows, they’re peeling back their clothes until they’re both without a single stitch and Jon is mapping her curves with salt on his tongue and reverent palms smoothing up and down her needy skin.

Jon’s not sure if he forgets, or perhaps his mind decides to shield himself from the thought, but for now, in this moment, when he’s settled between her long legs and is pushing himself into her welcoming silky warmth, she’s not Sansa-the-mermaid, she’s just Sansa, and she’s _his_.

He thought he knew what ‘making love’ was, he’s sure he’d experienced it before with an ex or two. But he was wrong. Making love to Sansa was as hungry and eager as the hottest of frantic hook-ups, but so, so much more. It was tender. He could feel her _everywhere,_ like she’d burrowed into him, become a part of him, and every gasp and shuddering breath of hers was his as well. When he came, Jon felt like he’d fallen from a great height, like his heart was hammering against his ribs to burst free from his chest and give itself to her. He panted unintelligible whispers into Sansa’s hair until he got his breath back. And later that night, they awoke to do it all again.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Jon stretched and yawned as the slither of light that came streaming through the heavy black out curtains of his hotel room gradually travelled up to burn through his eyelids. Something stirred next to him, soft and warm and mumble-y with sleep. _Sansa,_ his mind prodded, urging him to open one eye and look down to the mass of messy red hair resting on his chest. He smiled to himself and held her tighter. Sansa squirmed and stretched out a yawn, smacking her lips together and nuzzling into the side of his neck. “Happy morning,” Jon murmured. Sansa slapped his chest half-heartedly before huffing out a chuckle.

“Don’t make fun,” she said, rising on her elbow to gaze down at him.

Reaching up to tuck a few strands of her copper hair behind her ear, Jon smiled at the way her teeth sunk into her lower lip as her eyes dropped to his mouth. “But it is a happy morning, isn’t it?”

“Hmm,” she hummed, leaning down to press her lips to his. “Happy morning then.” If he wasn’t already hard, he would be now as Sansa climbed on top of him, continuing to kiss and smooth her hands over every inch of skin she could find.

“Very happy morning,” Jon murmured between presses of their lips. Sansa bucked her hips, making him hiss as she ground down on his erection.

She paused and sat up, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I have a…” she looked to the side, searching for the right word. “A… something to say…”

“Something to say?” Jon licked his lips and held onto her thighs as she sat atop him. “Like a secret?”

Sansa’s eye lit up. “Yes! _A secret!”_ It was obviously the word she had been trying to remember. “I love you.”

Jon’s heart skipped a beat as he stared up at her. He swallowed painfully. _I love you too._ It was on the very tip of his tongue, but the blasted words clung on for dear life leaving him gaping up at her like a fish out of water. _This can’t work,_ his mind whirred. _We’re too different. I’m human, and you… you’re an intelligent, beautiful creature straight from mythology. It can’t work. It can’t._

Seeing Sansa’s features morph from happy and hopeful to pained and reserved as she watched him and his non-response was like a dagger to the heart for Jon. He didn’t want to hurt her, that was the _very last_ thing he wanted. But perhaps it’s better for her to realise now that this – this _thing_ between them – just _won’t work._

“Sansa, I-“

“I need water,” she slid from her place on top of him and alighted the bed. Jon watched helplessly as she closed the bathroom door and heard her turn the lock. The taps of the bath started running. She did this sometimes, spending an hour or so submerged in cold water. Jon wonders if it comforts her. He wonders if she yearns for her home. His heart gives a little lurch at the thought.

Swallowing down the intensity of the situation they find themselves in, Jon slips out from the covers and starts to get dressed. The water stops from behind the bathroom door and he pauses, just to listen. There’s a few sniffs and the sound of gently sloshing water and Jon feels like the worlds biggest villain for causing her upset. “Sansa,” he says, coming to the door, “I’m… I’m going to the bakery to get some of those lemon-cakes you like…” Jon is met with silence and he figures she doesn’t owe him any words since she offered him her heart and all he has for her in return is sweet treats. He hangs his head. In truth his heart is already hers, but it can’t be. _It can’t be._ “I…” he starts again, “we’ll talk when I come back.” And with that he leaves to make good on his promise of cake – the proverbial spoonful of sugar to help the heartbreak medicine to go down.

When he returns not twenty minutes later, Sansa is gone – and so is her shell.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Some months later…**

Jon sat at his desk, staring at the various objects Sansa had brought into the observation tank. He smiled at the memory of how she liked to arrange and re-arrange them. Jon hadn’t seen her in months and yet he could remember every fleck of stardust in her eyes and every constellation of freckles on her shoulders. Those three weeks she’d been ashore with him had been the best three weeks of his life, he’d come to realise, and he carried around a sore and heavy heart along with that realisation. Is this how Ned felt each time Cat would give in to her yearning for the seas? Is this how he felt for all those years? He’d told Jon that Cat’s visits ashore could be as long as four years apart. That thought now terrified Jon. He couldn’t wait four years to see Sansa again. He couldn’t wait four years to tell her that he loved her too.

Each day he cursed his hesitation to confess to her that morning. Her absence had shined a blinding light on the fact that deep down, in the recesses of his soul, he just did not care what she was. Sansa was Sansa, and that was enough. More than enough. He sighed and pushed his fingers up under his glasses to rub at his tired eyes.

“Missing having Red to talk to?” Val approached, two cups of coffee in hand. Sansa had not returned to the research facility and no amount of coaxing had persuaded any of the other mermaids to go anywhere near the observation tank.

“Sansa,” Jon murmured, nodding his thanks for the hot drink, “her name is Sansa.”

Val shrugged and leant back against his desk. “Not much work for a linguist if we can’t get any of them to communicate with you. What do you think scared her off?”

_Me._ “I don’t know.” He took a sip from the coffee and hissed slightly at the burn on his tongue. “Can we try the music again?”

“Sure. What track?”

Jon ruffled his fingers through his hair as he thought. “Try… try _‘Kiss The Girl’_ this time.” This had been the daily ritual for months now. Val would project various songs – songs that Jon remembered Sansa had loved – and they waited. Sometimes the other mermaids or mermen would appear, looking curiously at them. But never his Sansa.

He watched the deep blue expanse of the ocean throughout the whole of the song until he asked Val to play it on a loop for a while. She huffed but complied. He’d asked Sam if there were any other forms of summoning mermaids depicted in his books. He’d come back empty-handed.

Jon was tired. So tired, and weary, and heartbroken. He lowered his head to his desk, falling asleep due to his long nights of waiting at the lab or staring out to sea on a windy clifftop like some sort of brooding Byronic character, filling his lungs with dusk and salt only to wander back to his empty hotel room and bedsheets that no longer smell of her.

“What the fuck?!” Val muttered, “Jon! Jon! Look!”

Rousing from his sleep, Jon slipped his glasses back down his nose. He squinted and blinked at the glass wall of the lab, staring out to sea. A mermaid was approaching. A redheaded mermaid. Jon’s heart leapt to his throat. _Sansa._

“That’s her isn’t it?” Val asked, reminding him that he was not alone. He swallowed as the mermaid neared, his eyes going wide as he took her in fully. “Well it looks like she’s been busy!”

Jon hardly heard Val’s words. He was too busy trying and failing to regulate his breathing and stop his heart from stuttering in his chest at the sight of her – with her flowing auburn hair, her smooth milky skin, the shimmer of her silvery scales… and the small swell of her belly. He gawped haplessly as she swam straight into the observation tank and gave him a half smile. _‘Jon swim?_ ’ she asked, signing with her hands.

He blinked, once, twice at the bump she now carried and dragged his eyes back up to hers. ‘ _Jon swim?_ ’ she repeated the sign and he found himself nodding to her. “Yes,” he answered, “I’ll swim.”

“Wait, what?!” Val hissed, grabbing his arm. “You can’t do that Snow! You don’t know what she’ll do.”

“Yes, he does,” came the unexpected voice of Ned Stark from up at the platform above them by the entrance. Jon looked from Sansa to his boss and back again, swallowing thickly once more. His boss had seen her condition, the condition of his daughter, the condition he’d had a part in creating. He waited for some sort of thunderous outburst from the older man, he’d gotten his daughter pregnant after all, he deserved it. But all that graced Ned’s lips was a faint smile and a nod of his head before he spoke again. “Well…go on then. She’s waiting for you, lad.” Jon smiled tentatively and immediately started working the buttons of his shirt.

“But-“ Val stuttered, looking from Jon, to Ned, to Sam and back to Jon again, “you can’t be serious! She could be dangerous! She’s a wild creature!”

“She’s not a wild creature!” Jon bit out, ridding himself of his shirt and heading to the control panel to seal the tank closed and open up the top. He looked up to Sansa who was watching him intently. “I love her.”

He’s sure that Val said something then – something akin to horror, disgust or just plain shock. Maybe she proclaimed him utterly insane? Who knows? Certainly not Jon. He was far too busy watching Sansa’s face of concern split with a beautiful wide grin, her eyes twinkling as her hair floated around her head. Sansa put a hand to the swell of her stomach, smoothing it down and then up again. _‘Baby’_ she mouthed at him through the glass. _‘Baby’_ he mouthed back, unable to stop the smile on his lips.

From somewhere unseen, tucked away under her thick auburn hair, Sansa pulled out an item and offered it to him from the other side of the tank. A shell. The same small stripy spiral shell that she’d given him before, that he’d left carelessly around for her to find and steal back away to her watery home. He beamed at her and bounded towards the stairs up to the viewing platform, vowing that he’ll find somewhere, _anywhere_ to hide that blasted shell so that she’d never come across it if she searched everyday for the rest of their lives.

“Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” Jon vaguely hears Val ask as he gets to the platform’s edge and is pushing his jeans down his thighs. Sansa’s head breaks the surface of the water as she peers up at him with a joyous look on her face. Jon’s feet tangle in his stupidly tight jeans, making him stumble a little before grasping at the railing. Sansa giggles at him and it’s such a welcome sound that all he can do for a handful of seconds is grin at her like an utter buffoon in nothing but his boxers.

His dive into the tank may have been more elegant should he have cared enough to try. But every nerve in Jon’s body was singing to hold her close and never let go. As soon as his skin came in contact with hers, Jon choked on his own breath. Just moments ago he had been staring down the possibility of waiting four years or more to see her again, but now, now she was here and she was laughing in his arms as he peppered her cheek and shoulder with presses of his mouth whilst trying to tread water.

“Come on,” he heard Ned murmur, “Val, Sam, let’s leave them to it.”

“But-“

“Come, I’ll tell you what I know.” With that, Jon assumes they are left alone in the lab but he doesn’t care enough to check.

He cradles her face in his hands, her hair is stained dark with seawater and slick to her head, neck and shoulders, her eyes are wide and doe-like as she stares back at him. “Happy morning,” she says on a broken raspy whisper and Jon feels his own eyes prick with emotion.

“Happy morning, sweetheart.” He holds her tight, pulling her as close as he possibly can until he feels the round of her belly against his own and could no more stop his hand from wandering to the small swell then he could stop the sun from dipping into the sea at the day’s end or the moon from rising at night.

“Are you happy?” she asks, unsure, weary as she watches him stroke her stomach reverently.

Jon nods. “Yes… big, big happy,” he beams at her, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. A thought crosses his mind and he knows it must now cloud his expression. “Will… will you have the baby on land… with me?”

Sansa takes both his hands in hers, clearly sensing his trepidation. “If... have our baby on land... will be human, like you,” she smiled. Jon nodded slowly, urging her to continue, “I would like that,” she whispers.

He felt a burst of hope in his chest. “I would like that too… will you… stay?... Will you stay with me, Sansa?”

Sansa smiled at him, nodding her head. “Sansa belong to Jon,” she answered, mimicking a time when her words were more clumsy in her mouth – a mouth that he crashed into with his own, his hand tangling in her wet hair desperately.

Pulling away ever so slightly, his heart fit to burst in his chest, Jon murmured into their kiss as his hand skimmed her belly, “and Jon belong to Sansa. _Always_.”

  

 


End file.
